The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 146

Garrison braced his hands against the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning stark white as his predatory gaze locked onto the monitor, as if sheer willpower could burn a hole straight through the screen.

Simon watched him, letting the silence stretch for a few agonizing seconds before finally speaking up.

"Professor Foster, Ms. Taylor... is my patient, and my friend. And... she didn't seem to have any family. She came to every single appointment entirely alone..."

He paused, taking a breath before continuing.

"She told me she contacted your team. I was genuinely overjoyed for her because I firmly believed your clinical trial was the only thing capable of saving her life."

He looked directly at Garrison, his eyes full of confusion and barely concealed accusation.

"Did she... actually receive treatment at your facility?"

Garrison said nothing.

He felt the blood freeze in his veins. The entire world felt like a fading, black-and-white movie, utterly devoid of color or warmth.

"Professor Foster?" Simon's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. "Are you alright?"

"Print out every single one of these reports for me."

"B-But... patient records are strictly confidential. I can't just print them out for—"

"I said, print. Them. Out."

Garrison's expression was terrifyingly severe, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation.

Seeing the pale, devastatingly grim look on the prestigious doctor's face, Simon finally sighed and hit the print button.

"Ms. Taylor printed a copy of these reports right before she left. I don't suppose... you ever saw them? Or maybe..." A dark suspicion began to take root in Simon's mind. "She never actually went to you for treatment, did she?"

Garrison offered no reply.

He simply stood there, numbly watching the printer spit out sheet after sheet of paper. He gathered the stack, gripped it tightly in his hand, and turned on his heel to leave.

Simon's voice called out from behind. "Professor Foster! Where are you going?"

Garrison didn't break his stride.

He didn't look back, marching straight toward the faint light at the end of the corridor.

*

Garrison had no memory of how he made it back to his car.

All he knew was that he was sitting in the driver's seat with the door shut, the world outside suddenly muted. The afternoon sun shone brightly on the bustling street; pedestrians strolled by, people waited at the bus stop, a mother pushed a stroller, and a young couple laughed while holding hands.

But none of that peaceful normalcy belonged to him anymore.

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